Black Diamonds (3 page)

There was only the slightest hesitation before he nodded.

“Have you ever thought that some of us don’t have the same agenda as you?” Jackie blazed at him, as Rudy lifted his head and gave a growl. “Have you ever thought that perhaps we’re cultivating truffles not for profit, but for pleasure? That’s how it was for my pa.” Tears sprang back to her eyes and she wiped them angrily away. “It’s not all about the bottom line, you know.”

“I never said it was,” Xavier shot back. “I don’t want to upset you, not after what you have been through,” his voice softened as he went on, “but it’s about survival in a global economy. There’s some realism required.”

“Realism. Is that what you call it? We were fine here before all these international buyers came along. My pa was right, it was paradise. Now, it’s all being spoilt by people who only see it as a line on a balance sheet.”

“That’s how you see international buyers, is it?” His mouth gave a curious twist. “As a group of mercenary invaders? Spoiling paradise?”

In defiance she lifted her chin. “Yes, I do.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Why?”

Draining his wine glass, he set it down on the table and stood up.

“Because I’m one of your mercenary invaders.” He nodded. “
Oui
, that’s right. My large, international company,” he stressed each word separately, “has just bought the land next door.”

Xavier Antoine paused as she gave a horrified gasp. “I’m afraid we’re not destined to be strangers, Jacaranda Riley. I’m your new neighbour.”

A well-known trick with fresh black truffle is to infuse whole eggs with its flavour and aroma. To do this, simply place some eggs in an air-tight container with some absorbent towel, muslin or paper. Place the truffle or truffle pieces on the paper so as to absorb any condensation. Seal and leave in the fridge or cool place for 2–3 days … These eggs will take on the truffle aroma and flavour and the eggs can be used for anything … and pass on the beautiful flavours.

http://www.truffledogswa.com.au

Jackie banged the plates down on the tasting bar.

“I’m afraid we’re not destined to be strangers … I’m your new neighbour …”
When was she going to get that irritating Frenchman’s voice out of her mind? She’d barely been rid of it for the past few days. She shook her head, hard, as if by doing so she could clear it of the memory of him. Xavier Antoine. How dared he trick his way into her confidence! The strangers on a train phenomenon, he’d called it. That was a laugh. She’d practically told him her life story. She never did that, and she certainly never cried in front of anyone the way she’d sobbed in his arms. Her face flamed thinking about it. And the way he’d incited her to criticise international companies coming into the region, knowing full well he’d bought the huge piece of land, the old vineyard next door, intending, no doubt, to make it another link in the Antoine Estate
truffiere
chain!

Yet something strange had occurred since her embarrassing emotional outburst. The sense of tiredness that had plagued her, that dulling, aching fatigue that had hung over her since her father died, had dissipated. Her grief hadn’t gone—she knew it never would—but her old energy had returned, along with a raging fury at Xavier Antoine. Why, oh why had she let out her feelings in front of him?

Don’t think about him anymore
, she instructed herself.
Get to work.

There was a hitch to that. Jackie rested her elbows on the wooden tasting bar and stared at the front door, as if through sheer willpower she could conjure up some more customers to come through. Sundays were usually the busiest day at Paradise Truffle Farm, but today, it had been slow. Too slow. She’d insisted that Mia, who usually made the lunches and snacks, should go home early.

What would she do if a huge, famous French truffle farm opened up nearby? They’d drive her out of business, fast.

“
There’s a problem down here in the south west, from what I can gather. It all started too small …”
An unmistakeable French voice reverberated in her ears.

With determination she clenched her hands. She’d find a way to make Paradise Truffles stand out. Even if the Antoine Estate became the biggest
truffiere
in Australia, she’d give her new neighbour a run for his money.

It wasn’t going to be easy. With a gusty sigh she wandered over to the switches by the front door and turned off the ceiling fans swirling gently above her. The day had begun to lose its scorching heat, and her dress was cool, a white pinafore cut like an apron, with a wide bib-like square front and thick straps crossed over her bare back, fastened with deep purple buttons. She could do without the fans for a while. The way her finances looked, she might have to do without a few other things in future as well. She’d been shocked when she’d studied the accounts; finances certainly hadn’t been her pa’s strong point. He’d always said he could handle it, though now she wasn’t sure. But she wouldn’t panic, not yet, not until she’d had a full report from Paradise Truffle Farm’s accountant, who’d promised her it wouldn’t be too much longer. Meanwhile, no news was good news.

The telephone jangled, breaking into her thoughts.

“Paradise Truffle Farm.”

“
Bonjour
.”

Her mouth went dry.
Bonjour
? Surely it wasn’t …

“This is Xavier Antoine.”

She swallowed hard. “Hello. It’s Jackie Riley speaking.”

“
Bon
. I was just checking you were there. I have some guests I’d like to bring around to you for a tasting and a tour of your farm.”

“Some guests?”

“
Oui
. I will bring them now.”

“But—”

All she heard was a click. Infuriated, she took the phone from her ear and held it out in front of her. He hadn’t asked her if she was busy, told her who his guests were, or checked if she wanted to meet them. Even more infuriating was the way that once she’d hung up the phone, she found herself looking down at her pinafore, wondering if she should change her dress.

No.
She wasn’t going to change her clothes because Xavier Antoine, heir to an international truffle fortune, was paying a visit. Yet she couldn’t help checking her reflection in the mirror by the door and dabbing on some more lip gloss. As usual, she’d chewed off what she’d put on earlier. That was the only reason she was adding more cherry flavour to her lips. She snapped the lid shut.

Back at the tasting bar, she lined up the truffle oils, salts, mustards, vinegars and pesto into their neat rows. They had no fresh truffles in January; of course, they wouldn’t be dug from the ground until June and July, in the Australian winter time. Even so, she experienced a familiar sense of pride as she looked at the bottles and jars on the counter. Their truffle products range wasn’t large, but she had always loved setting them out, with their simple brown and white labels. Arranging them had always been her special job with her father, yet even this task wasn’t helping to keep her mind from the forthcoming arrival of Xavier Antoine.

With a tea towel she began to polish the bench top. She’d never met a man who could raise so many different emotions in her so fast. Their brief meeting had been like a roller coaster ride. Those wild emotions hadn’t disappeared since he had driven away, the red dust swirling beneath the tyres of his sleek black car. Instead, they’d intensified. She found herself going over the things she could have said to him, would have said to him, wouldn’t have said, shouldn’t have said …

Keep your cool this time. Don’t let him rile you
.

The sound of car doors slamming outside came as she put the last jar back in its place on the bar. Hastily she tucked the tea towel out of sight underneath.

As the door opened she made her voice jovial. “Welcome to Paradise.”

“Well, thank you.” A petite blonde woman, with a pixie haircut and friendly brown eyes, came in and held out her hand, her wrist heavy with gold tennis bracelets. “You must be Jacaranda Riley. We’ve heard all about you from Xavier. We’re about to go home, but we wish we could stay longer. We sure do love what we’ve seen of this part of Australia. Isn’t it wonderful?” She turned to the man who had come in beside her for confirmation.

“Wonderful,” he agreed, as he too leant over the tasting bar and shook Jackie’s hand. Tall, older than his wife, with brown hair receding slightly at the front, his face was frank and friendly.

Jackie’s heart thudded. Behind them, Xavier Antoine had entered the cafe, casually pushing his sunglasses back on his head in a movement that flexed his muscles, outlined by his immaculate white t-shirt. She knew the strength of those arms; the way he’d held her. His expression appeared inscrutable as he gave her a nod of greeting.

“We’ve been visiting with Xavier. He’s bought a gorgeous property,” the woman chatted on, giving Xavier a quick smile over her shoulder.

He stepped forward. “Let me introduce you to Bob and Eve Armitage, Jacaranda. They own some leading restaurants in New York,” he explained smoothly.

New York? Jackie frowned slightly. Her truffle farm didn’t distribute internationally. What was Xavier Antoine playing at? Why had he brought them to Paradise?

“That’s right,” Bob Armitage nodded. “Australian truffles are coming up in the world. We thought we’d come say hello to Xavier and have a look for ourselves, or rather, a taste for ourselves.” He gave a good-natured guffaw.

Jackie pulled herself together. They seemed to be nice people; she’d liked Eve instantly. It wasn’t their fault they were associated with Xavier Antoine. “I’d be pleased to give you a tasting of some of our products, though of course, because it’s summer I don’t have any fresh truffles at the moment.”

“I’m still getting a handle on the Australian seasons being the opposite of ours,” Eve confessed with a grin. “It’s freezing in New York right now.” She glanced through the window at the bright sunshine. “Is there any chance of having a look around? We’d love a tour. I generally leave truffle business entirely to Bob. I see the end product on the plate, but I don’t know all I should about this side of production, I’m sorry to say. I’d like to learn more, and it’s so pretty here.”

“Very pretty,” Xavier put in.

Looking up, she found him staring straight at her. Her heart gave another disconcerting thump.

“I might tag along myself,” he added.

Biting her lip, she turned away and grabbed a pair of sunglasses from behind the bar. Xavier Antoine’s stare scorched like sunburn on her back.

“I’d love to give you a tour,” she told the Armitages brightly as she came around the bar. “Let’s go right outside and I’ll take you up and show you our trees, and then we can go over to where we keep our truffle dogs. They’re Labradors and beagles, mainly.”

Xavier held the front door open. “Allow me.”

Jackie raised her chin as she reached the door after Eve and Bob had exited. “After you.”

His dark eyes glinted. “
Non
. After you, Miss Riley.”

She hesitated. She had to get over her physical reaction to this man. His sheer proximity made her body temperature soar. She should have left the fans on, she thought fleetingly, but then, she hadn’t been expecting Xavier Antoine.

Taking a deep breath, she swept past him, her head held high. A spark like brush fire flared between them as her arm touched his.

Raising her voice she asked, “Shall we start the tour?”

Xavier smiled inwardly as he followed Jacaranda through the cafe door and into the blazing sun. For the past couple of days he’d found himself thinking about her and the pent up torrent of emotion that sent her falling into his arms. His entire being hadn’t been able to forget her slender body pressed into his.

Outside, Eve Armitage stood staring at the cafe, shading her face with her hand against the sun’s glare. “I can’t work out what your buildings are made of. It isn’t stone, is it?”

“No,” Jacaranda answered. “The cafe is built from rammed earth, and so is my cottage.” She pointed to a pretty red-brown cottage hidden behind the gum trees that Xavier hadn’t noticed on his first visit to Paradise Truffle Farm. Paradise, he mused. The name was appropriate. Since arriving in Western Australia, he’d seen so many extraordinary shades of flora and fauna; even the parrots were feathered like rainbows. And Jacaranda Riley, with her vivid colouring, fit the landscape perfectly.

Eve looked mystified. “Rammed earth?”

“Yes, its compressed red earth, quite dusty stuff. It hardens, like bricks.”

“So it’s a mud hut,” Xavier couldn’t resist commenting.

Predictably, she stiffened. “If it’s a mud hut, it’s a sophisticated one,” she shot back at him. “It’s built to last, and it keeps out the sun.”

She pointed to the red tiles on the roof. “Those tiles are similar to what you’d find in Italy. So I suppose it’s a Tuscan style mud hut.”

“I think it’s gorgeous,” Eve declared. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s distinctly Australian, Mrs Armitage.” Jacaranda appeared to calm down at the compliment, though she turned her body away from Xavier. His lip curled. She’d decided to ignore him.
Bonne chance
, he thought. It was almost impossible to ignore the tension between them, simmering like heat.

Eve threw them both an inquisitive glance.

“Please, call us Bob and Eve,” she invited Jacaranda. “And I love your name. It’s a flower, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but feel free to call me Jackie. Most people do.”

“I love Australian flowers.” Eve sniffed the air. “What’s that gorgeous smell?”

“What you can probably smell is good old eucalyptus. But that’s wattle,” Jacaranda pointed at some fluffy yellow flowers, “that is also called mimosa. That’s the last of it; there’s only a little left of it at this time of year. You should see this place in the spring; there are all kinds of wildflowers.”

“Look how you’ve planted geraniums around your cottage, too. They’re such a cheerful flower. It’s like France. Don’t you think so, Xavier?”

“Not quite,” he responded drily.

“We’re not aiming to be like France.” Jacaranda tossed the comment towards him as though it was a hand grenade. She turned to Bob and Eve. “Now, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you up to our hazel trees.”